I’m so confused. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know where I stand with anyone anymore. I keep fucking everything up for everyone. My brain’s so fucked and I don’t know why. Maybe I do. I don’t know. I don’t know if my parents actually care about me.
They used to beat the shit out of me. They don’t seem to really remember that. I don’t think they understood just how bad they hurt me when they did what they did. I’m sure they’d think I was a ***** if I ever told them that “they hurt my feelings”, which sounds so stupid and childish. I’m stupid and childish. They had every right to beat me. I just wish they had hurt me more so I’d stop acting like such a fucking *****. That’s the only way I’d ever fucking shut up. But now, I need that more than ever because I’ve been talking and feeling shit and everything and I have nothing to control anything anymore. I need someone to beat me.
They stopped beating me as hard, and I hardly talk to them anymore. I’ll have to go home in 12 days. I can’t bear to be back in the house where I was raped as a kid. It happened more than once. I thought it was just once, but there were too many different things that I remembered, they didn’t line up. She did it more than once. I don’t know what to do. They’re both good people, my parents. They’re mostly good parents to my brother, my sister, and I usually, so what reason do I have to complain? I should be thankful for what I have. I’m so ungrateful. I wish they would hurt me again so I could learn to be grateful properly.
I don’t know what to do. No, that’s not true. I just don’t want to hurt people more than I already do. I know this is for the best in the long run, though, so I should just accept it. I’m so selfish, but I’m selfish whether I kill myself or stay alive at this point. If I kill myself, then I’m putting the ending of my own suffering above the cares of others, and that’s shitty; if I stay alive, I’m causing everyone I love so much pain and that’s shitty, too. There’s no non-selfish choice. I’m irredeemable at this point anyway. I’m damaged goods to the point that no one would want to buy me except out of pity. Even then, I’m more of a detriment than I ever could be a benefit.
I shouldn’t explain this to you. It’s selfish of me to take up your time with my grievances, but it’s selfish of me to be alive at all. Hopefully I will put an end to my selfishness soon, for everyone’s sake.